Mo Xiaoxiao
15 Published Stories
Mo Xiaoxiao's Books and Stories
His Unwanted Wife Is A Top Scientist
Modern For four years, I played the perfect, naive, low-income wife to my wealthy husband Duke, completely hiding my true identity as a top-secret DARPA scientist.
On our anniversary, I discovered he was having an affair with an old-money socialite named Adelia.
He used our marital assets to buy her a half-million-dollar Birkin bag, but that wasn't the worst part.
While hiding in a parking garage, I recorded him telling his mistress that the daily prenatal vitamins he lovingly gave me were actually high-dose contraceptives.
He had secretly sterilized me to ensure I would never produce a "low-class" heir, planning to toss me aside with a tiny settlement in six months.
When I confronted him, he violently attacked me, smashed my head against a marble dresser, and locked me in our bedroom.
I thought of the four years I spent crying in doctors' offices, blaming my own body for my infertility, while he held my hand and comforted me with perfect, monstrous concern.
I didn't wait to be punished.
I climbed down the second-story balcony in the dark, leaving behind every diamond and luxury bag he had ever given me.
Sitting in the back of a taxi, I wiped the blood from my forehead and opened a secure app on my phone.
"Divorce fraud. Initiate sequence."
It was time for him to finally meet Dr. Patterson. His Promise, My Shattered World
Modern My world revolved around Jax Harding, my older brother's captivating rockstar friend.
From sixteen, I adored him; at eighteen, I clung to his casual promise: "When you're 22, maybe I'll settle down."
That offhand comment became my life's beacon, guiding every choice, meticulously planning my twenty-second birthday as our destiny.
But on that pivotal day in a Lower East Side bar, clutching my gift, my dream exploded.
I overheard Jax' s cold voice: "Can't believe Savvy's showing up. She' s still hung up on that stupid thing I said."
Then the crushing plot: "We' re gonna tell Savvy I' m engaged to Chloe, maybe even hint she' s pregnant. That should scare her off."
My gift, my future, slipped from my numb fingers.
I fled into the cold New York rain, devastated by betrayal.
Later, Jax introduced Chloe as his "fiancée" while his bandmates mocked my "adorable crush"-he did nothing.
As an art installation fell, he saved Chloe, abandoning me to severe injury.
In the hospital, he came for "damage control," then shockingly shoved me into a fountain, leaving me to bleed, calling me a "jealous psycho."
How could the man I loved, who once saved me, become this cruel and publicly humiliate me?
Why was my devotion seen as an annoyance to be brutally extinguished with lies and assault?
Was I just a problem, my loyalty met with hatred?
I would not be his victim.
Injured and betrayed, I made an unshakeable vow: I was done.
I blocked his number and everyone connected to him, severing ties.
This was not an escape; this was my rebirth.
Florence awaited, a new life on my terms, unburdened by broken promises. Reborn From Fire: The Mafia King's Bride
Mafia The fire that melted my skin should have been the end of my story.
I had been the perfect mafia wife. I obeyed my father, I married Dante Genovese, and I even birthed his daughter.
But in return, he locked us in a safehouse and lit a match.
He watched from behind a steel door as I burned to ash, all because his mistress, Sofia, was jealous and wanted me out of the picture.
My own brother had spiked my champagne to ensure I was too weak to fight back.
I died screaming, my lungs filling with smoke and the scent of my husband's betrayal.
But when I gasped awake, I wasn't in hell.
I was in the bridal suite at the Ritz-Carlton.
My hands were smooth. My skin was unblemished. The date on the digital clock burned red in the darkness.
It was three years ago.
It was the night of our engagement. The night it all began.
Dante was in the bathroom right now, humming contentedly as he washed off the scent of his mistress before coming to claim his "lawful prize."
In my past life, I waited for him. I let him take me, thinking my submission would earn his love.
Not this time.
I didn't run to the lobby for help. My family had sold me out.
Instead, I took the elevator to the Penthouse floor.
To the territory of the Outfit.
To the door of Matteo Moretti—The Butcher. The only man ruthless enough to make Dante tremble.
When the door opened, revealing a man with eyes like ice and a gun in his hand, I didn't flinch.
I fell to my knees and looked up at the monster who could save me.
"I am Elena Vitiello," I whispered, the drug in my veins setting my blood on fire.
"And I have a proposition." Claimed By The Uncle: My Sweet Revenge
Modern I was the "crazy girl" my family sent to a survivalist commune in Utah to rot. Four years later, I returned to Manhattan with a titanium USB drive and a heart full of ice, ready to blackmail the one man who could burn my family to the ground.
But I underestimated how much they hated me. My fiancé, Preston, was already laundering money through my inheritance and sleeping with my replacement. He didn't even flinch when I showed him the evidence of his crimes.
Instead, he grabbed me by the shoulders, smashed my phone, and shoved me out of his moving Lincoln into a midnight storm. I hit the wet pavement hard, my knees scraping against the asphalt as I watched him drive away, laughing about how I was a "dirt-poor exile" that nobody wanted.
Within minutes, my credit cards were flagged as stolen and my father’s lawyers were drafting a statement calling me mentally unstable. I was left shivering in a puddle of oily sludge, wearing a ruined Chanel suit, with no money, no home, and no one to hear me scream.
I couldn't understand how they could be so cruel. I was their flesh and blood, yet they treated me like a broken toy to be discarded in the trash. I was a "distressed asset" in a city that only valued gold.
That’s when a black armored SUV pulled to the curb. King Wagner—the ruthless shark of Wall Street and Preston’s own uncle—looked at my muddy face with cold, calculating eyes. He didn't offer me pity; he offered me a leash.
"You belong to me now," he whispered, pulling me into the dry warmth of his car. By the next morning, he had announced our engagement to the world, turning me into the very weapon that would slit my family's throat. Abandoned In Paris, Reborn In London
Modern For three years, I played second fiddle to my boyfriend' s "childhood friend," Eve.
When Damion finally whisked me away to Paris to rekindle our dying spark, I thought things might change.
Instead, the moment we arrived, he abandoned me in the hotel lobby without my passport because Eve called with a "crisis."
I spent my first night in Paris stranded and penniless while he rushed to comfort her.
When he finally returned the next morning, he didn't apologize.
He flew into a rage because I' d sought safety in an old college friend' s room, accusing me of cheating while he still smelled like her cheap perfume.
He actually punched the only man who helped me, screaming that I was the toxic one.
The gaslighting was the final straw. I didn't feel anger anymore, just a cold, liberating indifference.
While he begged on his knees, quitting his job and promising to cut Eve off forever, I simply walked away.
I boarded a plane to London for a promotion I' d once turned down for him, leaving him with nothing but his regrets and the "friend" he chose over me. Frozen Cargo, A Betrayed Wife
Modern My husband made me ride in the freezing cargo hold because his mistress wanted peace and quiet.
I died back there, clutching the "vitamins" she gave me, while they laughed in the front seat.
It wasn't until my frozen body was found that Atlas realized he had just killed his own wife and unborn child.
Ten years ago, I saved Atlas from a car crash that left me with the mind of a child.
He hated me for it.
He treated me like a burden and let his mistress, Kacie, feed me high-dose abortion pills disguised as health supplements.
When the police uncovered the truth, Atlas' s world shattered.
He discovered Kacie had never been pregnant-but I was.
Consumed by a belated, violent rage, he executed Kacie with his own hands and demanded the death penalty for himself.
He thought death would be his redemption.
He thought he could find me on the other side and make amends.
But when his spirit finally reached out to mine, begging for forgiveness, I didn't feel the love I had yearned for in life.
I felt nothing.
"Go away, Atlas," I whispered, watching his soul crumble.
"I'm finally free." His Secret Wife, His Public Shame
Billionaires My boss shoved me into a room to handle a VIP patient who was threatening suicide. She was Evelin Bennett, a famous fashion influencer, hysterical over her fiancé.
But when she tearfully showed me a photo of the man she loved, my world shattered. It was my husband of two years, Ben, a kind construction worker I'd found after an accident left him with amnesia. Except in this photo, he was Bernard Logan, a ruthless tycoon standing in front of a skyscraper bearing his name.
Just then, the real Bernard Logan walked in, dressed in a suit that cost more than my car.
He strode past me as if I didn't exist and wrapped his arms around Evelin.
"Baby, I'm here," he murmured, his voice the same deep, soothing tone he used on me after a bad day. "I'll never leave you again. I promise."
He had made that exact promise to me a hundred times over.
He kissed her forehead, declaring he loved only her-a performance for an audience of one: me. He was showing me that our entire marriage, our life together during his amnesia, was a secret to be buried.
As he carried her from the room, his cold eyes met mine one last time.
The message was clear: You are a problem to be erased. Shattered Vows, Unspoken Love
Billionaires For six years, I devoted my life to my wife, tech CEO Isabella Stone. After I saved her from a fire, I became the sole caregiver for her comatose mother, putting my own life on hold so she could build her empire.
Then she went on national television and told the world our marriage was just a debt of gratitude. She never loved me.
That same night, her mother died. I tried to call her, but her ex-fiancé—the man who abandoned her in that fire—answered the phone.
She was with him, pregnant with his child, while her mother died alone in a hospital.
At the funeral, she collapsed and lost the baby. Her lover screamed that it was my fault, and she stood by his side, letting him blame me.
I divorced her. I thought it was over.
But as we left the lawyer's office, her lover tried to run me over. Isabella pushed me out of the way, taking the hit herself. With her last breath, she confessed the truth.
"The baby... he was yours, Izzy. He was always yours." My Farewell To A Wicked Wife
Modern The hospital corridor smelled of disinfectant, quiet except for my wife Sarah's voice through the door. She' d claimed amnesia after a car accident, unable to remember me, her husband of five years.
But what I heard next wasn't confusion. "It' s just for seven days. Then I'll say my memory came back. He can't blame a 'sick' person, right?" Mark Davis, a junior developer at our company, responded, "Aren't you worried he'll just cut you off? Financially, I mean."
Sarah laughed, a chilling sound. "David? He loves me too much. He'll feel guilty and give me anything I want. This is the only way to get him to step down so you can take over the Alpha Corp project. Once you're in charge, everything will be ours." My world shattered. The woman was a stranger.
The next day, Sarah, with a fake bandage, announced Mark as acting CTO, thrusting a temporary leave form at me. Everyone watched, expecting an explosion. They knew I co-founded the company, built its technical foundation from scratch.
I signed the papers without a word. "Okay," I said, my voice even, leaving Sarah bewildered. Did they truly believe I was blind to their scheme?
She had no idea. The Alpha Corp project, her intended prize for Mark, had a one-hundred-million-dollar penalty for failure. A seven-day time bomb she had just armed herself. This wasn't merely her plan anymore; it was mine too. My Monster Husband, My Salvation
Romance My brother, Ethan, was my whole world, the only light in a home cloaked in shadows, a world where my stepsister, Chloe, reigned supreme, pulling the strings of my father and the man I loved, Dr. Liam Miller.
The call came on a Tuesday, pulling me from my mother' s art gallery, and dragging me into a family meeting that would shatter what little peace I had left.
Chloe, with a chilling smile, revealed her plan: to marry me off to Noah Blackwood, a reclusive billionaire rumored to be monstrously disfigured, all to settle her own failed engagement and save my father' s crumbling finances.
My world crumbled further when I realized Liam, my childhood friend, the man I had painted a thousand times in my dreams, sided with them, his eyes cold and judgmental, dismissing my pleas as "selfish."
Then, with a terrifying suddenness, Ethan collapsed, his small body going limp in my arms; a horrifying consequence of an overdose of his heart medication that Chloe had orchestrated, and Liam, ever so blind, had enabled.
My rage wasn't just cold anymore; it was a consuming fire, burning away years of fear and submission, leaving me with one clear thought: if I was to be a pawn, I would play this game to win, not just for Ethan' s life, but for my own freedom.
I would marry Noah Blackwood, but not as their sacrifice; I would use his power to burn their world to the ground and finally claim justice. When Your Child Becomes Your Killer
Modern The last thing I remembered was the bitter taste of the tea my daughter, Stella, had made for me.
I died slowly, my body betraying me while my mind screamed, alone in a secluded D.C. apartment. Stella, the brilliant Yale graduate, the political commentator I had molded into a star, watched.
Just a day before, her viral video had already shredded my reputation, painting me as a monster.
The poison she gave me simply finished the job. Dying by the hand of your own child, the one you sacrificed everything for, is a special kind of hell.
There was no confusion, only a chilling clarity as my life drained away, her cold, detached eyes the last thing I saw. How could the daughter I pushed to greatness pay me back with death and public humiliation? Was this truly the end of everything?
Then, with a gasp, I woke up.
The familiar smell of old wood and fried onions filled my lungs.
My hands, strong and calloused, not the useless claws of my deathbed. And there she was: a seventeen-year-old Stella, rebellious and sharp, clutching that art school acceptance letter.
I knew this moment. This was where the fatal battle of my first life began, the path leading directly to my murder. This time, everything would be different. A New Horizon After Her Betrayal
Romance My marriage to Seraphina had rules: five years of waiting for full moons and "energetic alignment."
During a raging wildfire, I found my wife, Seraphina, intimately huddled with another man, Julian, and a young boy, Leo, looking like a blissful family.
She didn't care I'd discovered her betrayal; she just told me I was 'upsetting the harmony' and kicked me out of my own home.
She even refused my divorce, claiming it would 'disrupt her karmic path' and then abandoned me bleeding in a cafe after I was injured saving her, to coddle a child who wasn't even hers.
Was my love and sacrifice truly so worthless, so easily discarded for a life built on her curated lies and calculated manipulations?
But then I saw the pictures and videos of her secret life, the raw, unhinged laughter broke free-the man who loved Seraphina was dead, and a new, free me was finally born. A Decade of Lies, A Moment of Truth
Romance Ten years with Ethan, my high school sweetheart, culminated in the diamond ring I' d always dreamed of.
My engagement party buzzed with excitement, a celebration of our perfect love story.
But the dream shattered when Ethan violently shoved me at the party, his voice ice-cold.
Then, a scene I' ll never erase: Ethan, on our marital bed, with Chloe-my old friend, now my bitter enemy.
And the chilling truth: his proposal wasn't for me at all.
The ring I wore bore Chloe' s initials.
Our apartment, my future, everything, was meticulously designed for her, a cruel charade.
He ripped down our photos, denied my pain, and then, he slapped me, demanding I apologize to the very person destroying my world.
My own parents, my mentors, had even distanced themselves, thanks to Chloe's past manipulations-all known to Ethan.
I was a pawn, a placeholder in their twisted game of revenge and manipulation.
How could the man who promised to love and protect me conspire with the woman who stole my art scholarship, the woman he knew was my deepest wound, to orchestrate such a public humiliation?
But no more.
On the very day he planned to discard me at the altar, I decided to reclaim my story.
I canceled the wedding, booked a flight overseas, and exposed their entire deceitful plot to his horrified family.
This wasn't an ending; it was my defiant beginning. Too Late For Regret, Mr. Vanderbilt
Billionaires The sterile scent of rubbing alcohol was too familiar. For five years, I'd been pregnant with Ethan Vanderbilt’s child, only to lose them, each time beneath the gaze of his wife.
This time, Olivia, his wife, stood over me, a cruel smile pasted on her face, a gleaming needle in her hand. Ethan watched from the doorway, just like always. After the screams and excruciating pain, I lost not only my baby but also my ability to ever have children again following a forced hysterectomy.
The news broke my father, who leaped to his death because he couldn't bear my torment. At his funeral, Olivia forced me to my knees, then kicked me relentlessly until my surgical wounds burst, leaving me bleeding uncontrollably. She even took photos of my battered body, laughing as she suggested I sell myself to pay for his burial. Then, she deliberately scattered his ashes into the mud.
How could Ethan, the man I once loved, stand by and watch me endure such depravity? Why was I trapped in this living hell, systematically tortured, robbed of my children, my body, and now my father, all based on some horrifying, unknown lie?
As Olivia rained blows upon my head in the pouring rain, her hateful laughter echoing, I fumbled for my phone. There was one person who knew the true story behind Olivia’s venom, the real reason for her twisted revenge. With my last breath, I pressed record. You might like
Phoenix Of Ruin: My Second Life Comes With A Better Man
Maple Breeze Ashley gave Nicolas ten years of love and five years of loyalty as his perfect housewife, only to be repaid with betrayal, humiliation, and death at the hands of him and his mistress.
After being reborn, she vowed to make them pay.
She tore apart the mistress, kicked her useless husband aside, and returned as the heiress of a top-tier family.
Surrounded by billions, luxury, and a parade of elite bachelors, Ashley became the woman everyone wanted-including a cold, powerful tycoon.
When Nicolas came begging for forgiveness, she smiled coldly. "Fuck off! My man is worth a hundred of you." The Unwanted Wife Is A Zillionaire
Reilly Mcardle For seven years, I played the perfect, hidden wife to billionaire August Chambers while working quietly as an ER nurse.
Three days before our marriage contract expired, he stormed into my emergency room carrying a bleeding woman. It was Allena, his cousin's fiancée.
She had suffered a ruptured corpus luteum from their violent, aggressive sex. Instead of hiding his affair, August ordered me to clear the floor and threw a massive check at my face to buy my silence. Later, his friends trapped me in a VIP club. When a waiter tripped, August violently shoved me aside just to protect Allena from a spilled cup of coffee. I crashed into a glass table, a sharp edge slicing deep into my arm.
"Apologize to her, and I'll have my driver take you to the hospital."
As my blood soaked into the white rug, he stood over me, demanding I get on my knees for his mistress. He didn't know I had faked a miscarriage five years ago to secretly raise our daughter far away from his cruelty. He also didn't know the money he flaunted was pocket change compared to my hidden AI tech empire.
I calmly tied a tourniquet around my bleeding arm with my teeth and wiped my blood directly over his heart onto his custom suit.
"I'm done with you."
The submissive nurse was dead, and it was time to let him burn in the ruins of his own lies. Flash Marriage to the Tycoon, I'm Spoiled Rotten
Hollow Echo Cast out by an "elite" family and mocked by high society, Elena shocked everyone by marrying the most powerful man in town.
They assumed it was a temporary arrangement-after all, he had said, "The agreement is for two years. After that, we're done."
Yet after the wedding, he refused to let her go. "Elena, you can't leave me."
As he doted on her, rumors shattered one by one. A renowned painter, top hacker, and tech mastermind-her true identities stunned the world.
When a luxury empire announced their lost heiress, all eyes turned to her. "Why did she look exactly like Elena?" Cheated On Me? I Married a Tycoon
Rum Runner I spent three years building my husband, Axel Farrell, into Silicon Valley's ultimate "family man." As his lead PR strategist, I carefully managed his public image, making sure the world saw him as a perfect, devoted husband while I worked in the shadows of our estate.
The illusion shattered when he came home one night smelling of sandalwood and roses, with three deep fingernail scratches carved into his back. When I tried to check his phone, the passcode we had used for years-our wedding anniversary-had been changed.
The betrayal got worse the next morning when his mother called me a "defective product" and tried to force me into a fertility clinic. Axel didn't defend me; instead, he shoved me against a marble bar at a public gala to protect his mistress in front of the world's elite. By the time I tried to leave, Axel had frozen my bank accounts and filed a forged legal petition to have me declared mentally incompetent.
He planned to have me legally kidnapped and locked in a private psychiatric ward just to stop me from filing for divorce. He even blocked every major law firm in the city from taking my case, leaving me with no money, no identity, and no one to turn to.
I couldn't understand how the man who "saved" me from the mud years ago could be the same monster now trying to legally erase my existence. Was our entire marriage just a grooming process to exploit my genius for his billion-dollar empire?
As the deadline for my forced commitment approached, I stopped crying and opened my laptop. I leaked the video of his affair to every tech journalist in the country, watching his stock price crash in real-time.
"Axel thinks starving me out will make me crawl back to him," I whispered as I walked into the headquarters of his biggest rival.
"But he forgot that the most valuable part of his company is in my head."
I was no longer the abandoned wife; I was the one who was going to take his throne and burn it to the ground. Abandoned Ex-Wife: Now Untouchable
Tao Yaoyao My five-year-old daughter was dying in the ICU, her heartbeat replaced by the continuous, electronic scream of a flatline. I gripped her cold hand, my throat sealed shut by a terror so absolute I couldn't even cry out.
I dialed my husband Grayson's private number, the one reserved only for me and his assistants. He declined the call instantly. A second later, a text buzzed against my palm:
"In a meeting. Do not disturb. Stop calling."
Five miles away, Grayson was at a luxury gala, adjusting his silk tie and laughing with Belle Escobar. He told her I was just being "dramatic" and using our daughter's "fever" as an excuse to avoid the event. He had no idea Effie's heart had already stopped.
When I finally reached our penthouse, soaked from the rain and carrying Effie's small socks in a plastic bag, Grayson didn't even look at me. He snapped at me for ruining the hardwood floors and asked if I'd left Effie with the nanny just to "feel sorry for myself."
Three days later, while I buried our daughter in a small, lonely ceremony, Grayson was at the Hamptons. Belle posted a photo of him golfing with the caption: "A mental health day with the boys." He didn't even attend the funeral, but he returned home demanding I clear out Effie's room to make a study for Belle's son.
The injustice burned through me until there was nothing left. I swallowed a handful of sleeping pills, desperate to join my daughter. But instead of the darkness, I woke up to blinding lights and the scent of Grayson's expensive cologne.
I was standing in a ballroom, wearing a blue silk dress I had already burned. Above me, a banner read: "Happy 5th Birthday Kaiden & Effie."
I was back, exactly one year before the tragedy. This time, I wasn't going to be the grieving wife. I was going to be their worst nightmare. No Longer Mrs. Cooley: The Architect's Return
Xiao Xiaosu I went to the City Clerk's office for a routine copy of my marriage license to finalize a trust fund audit. I expected a simple piece of paper, but the clerk's pitying look told me my entire life was a lie.
"The license was never finalized, Ms. Oliver. In the eyes of the state, you are single."
The three-hundred-guest wedding at the Plaza and the Vogue features meant nothing. My husband, Gray Cooley, had intentionally filed the documents with a "procedural defect" so he could discard me without a legal divorce. Moments later, an iCloud invite titled "Our Little Secret" popped up on my screen. It was a photo of my best friend, Brylee, holding a positive pregnancy test at our Hamptons estate.
Gray's text to her was the final blow:
"Happy anniversary, babe. This baby is the best gift. Once the trust unlocks today, we're done with the charade."
I soon discovered they were even stealing my career, reassigning my architectural masterpiece to Brylee while preparing my eviction notice. Gray's mother called me a "barren mule" in a leaked recording, mocking the infertility I suffered after saving Gray's life in a construction accident. I wasn't a wife; I was a three-year placeholder used to secure his inheritance.
How could the man I bled for treat me like a disposable prop? How could my best friend carry his child while pretending to comfort me through my darkest moments? The betrayal burned until it turned into a cold, hard stone of fury.
I didn't cry. Instead, I walked into the penthouse of the Barretts, the Cooleys' most powerful rivals. I signed a marriage contract with Kane Barrett, the man the tabloids called the "Beast of Wall Street."
"I want a wedding," I told his father, my voice steady and lethal. "Bigger than the one I had with Gray."
If they wanted me gone, they would have to watch me become the woman who owns their world. Seven Years A Fool, One Day A Queen
Stella Montgomery Everyone knew Kristine loved Colton. Still, his heart clung to a woman overseas-someone he spent most days with, now pregnant with his baby-and Kristine still asked him to marry her.
On their registration day, however, he never came; his "true love" had flown back.
Seven years of loyalty later, Kristine walked away, blocked him, and left his city.
Colton didn't blink-until he saw her at the courthouse, arm-in-arm with another man, and the proud CEO went pale. He went after her, desperation overtaking him.
"I'm sorry. Please give me another chance."
She snapped, "Could you stop? I'm already married." The Humble Ex-wife Is Now A Brilliant Tycoon
Flory Corkery For three quiet, patient years, Christina kept house, only to be coldly discarded by the man she once trusted.
Instead, he paraded a new lover, making her the punchline of every town joke.
Liberated, she honed her long-ignored gifts, astonishing the town with triumph after gleaming triumph.
Upon discovering she'd been a treasure all along, her ex-husband's regret drove him to pursue her. "Honey, let's get back together!"
With a cold smirk, Christina spat, "Fuck off."
A silken-suited mogul slipped an arm around her waist. "She's married to me now. Guards, get him the hell out of here!" Phoenix Rising: The Scarred Heiress's Revenge
Xiao Hong Mao I lived as the "scarred ghost" of the Stephens penthouse, a wife kept in the shadows because my facial burns offended my billionaire husband's aesthetic. For years, I endured Kason's coldness and my family's abuse, a submissive puppet who believed she had nowhere else to go.
The end came with a blue folder tossed onto my silk sheets. Kason's mistress was back, and he wanted me out by sunset, offering a five-million-dollar "silence fee" to go hide my face in the countryside.
The betrayal cut deep when I discovered my father had already traded my divorce for a corporate bailout. My step-sister mocked my "trashy" appearance at a high-end boutique, while the sales staff treated me like a common thief. At home, my father threatened to cut off my mother's life-saving medicine unless I crawled back to Kason to beg for a better deal.
I was the girl who took the blame for a fire she didn't start, the wife who worshipped a man who never looked her in the eye, and the daughter used as a human bargaining chip. I was supposed to be broken, penniless, and desperate.
But the woman who stood up wasn't the weak Elease Finch anymore; she was Phoenix, a tactical predator with a $500 million secret. I signed the divorce papers without a single tear, walked past my stunned husband, and wiped the Finch family's bank accounts clean with a few taps on my phone.
"Your money is dirty," I told Kason with a cold smile. "I prefer clean hands."
The cage is open, the hunt has begun, and I'm starting with the people who thought a scar made me weak. The Placeholder Bride's Secret Billionaire Revenge
Luo Ye For two years, I was the invisible force behind tech billionaire Kieran Douglas, convinced that our "private" romance was his way of protecting us from the tabloid spotlight. I managed his mergers, warmed his bed, and waited for a future that didn't exist.
The illusion shattered at 6:00 AM when a Page Six alert debuted Kieran's "real" romance with socialite Aspen Schneider. Before I could even process the betrayal, Kieran sent me a cold, professional text: "Order flowers for Aspen. Pink peonies. Her favorite."
When I tried to walk away, my own mother called me a disgrace and threatened to lock my inheritance forever unless I married a sixty-year-old businessman to save her failing estate. At a high-society gala that same night, Aspen intentionally crushed my burned hand in front of the cameras, while Kieran stood by and dismissed me as a "mediocre assistant" who had overstayed her welcome.
I stood in the cold New York rain, drenched in champagne and humiliation, realizing that every sacrifice I made for Kieran was a joke. I was a ghost in a penthouse that was never mine, discarded the moment his "soulmate" returned. To the world, I was just a placeholder whose time had run out.
But Kieran forgot one thing: my father's multi-million dollar trust fund unlocks the moment I legally marry. I didn't need love; I needed a signature and a shield. I walked into a discreet law firm and signed a marriage contract with a man I believed was the city's most notorious, scandal-ridden playboy.
I thought I was marrying a degenerate "beard" to buy my freedom and secure my revenge. I didn't realize the man who signed that paper wasn't a playboy at all, but Gaston Collins-the most powerful and dangerous man on Wall Street-and he had no intention of letting our fake marriage stay fake. 
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